The Day the Coffee Pot Stood Empty
by SearchingforLethe
Summary: The BAU's out of coffee, which means poor Spencer Reid is going to have to bear through the caffeine withdrawal. Or is it his team that will suffer? Somewhat OOC, as Reid gets weird without his daily dose of mild stimulants. Reid and review!


**Disclaimer:****Criminal Minds and all its associated characters are property to CBS and no profit is being made from this story.**

**Author's Note:**** This is a small, humorous one-shot made in honor of Season 7's premiere! Enjoy!**

**Summary:**** When coffee runs out in the BAU, poor Reid goes into withdrawal and shows an entirely different side to the multi-faceted genius. Will he survive his day without caffeine? Or will it be his team that suffers the consequences?**

**Warnings:**** May be slight OOC depending on how you look at it. Reid goes a little manic, you'll soon learn.**

**The Day the Coffee Pot Stood Empty**

_'I'd stop drinking coffee, but I'm not a quitter.' -Author Unknown_

Somewhere in his routine that Monday morning, Spencer Reid knew that it would not be a good day for him. At what point exactly he knew this, he wasn't sure. Maybe it was when his battery-operated alarm clock lost all the available energy and died in the middle of the night that he subconsciously knew. Or maybe it was when he woke up at eleven o'clock to his cell phone's incessant ringing, already late by two hours, that he knew. Perhaps it was when he realized just how behind on his laundry schedule he was, and was forced to throw on too-short khaki's and a wrinkly dress shirt that he knew. Or when he ran into his kitchen to make himself a much needed cup of coffee, only to learn that he was out of coffee grinds, that he begun to wonder if today was his today.

Regardless of when exactly the conclusion became clear, one thing was certain: Spencer Reid was not very happy when he was forced to leave his house, no coffee to speak of. But he could at least assuage his irritation with the hope and promise that once he got to the BAU and after he was yelled at by Hotch for being late, he would get some of his beloved caffeine.

Yes, that would most definitely turned the day around.

Once he finally made it the large and impressive work building, he ran madly through it, trying to at least hold some semblance of responsibility by looking panicked. He even opted to take the stairs, deciding that waiting for and standing in an elevator would only give him time for his nerves to increase. Besides, the running had managed to placate his frenzied body, currently working off the withdrawal he was suffering from no caffeine.

So, it was with a pounding headache and woozy stomach that he stormed in through the doors of the bullpen, panting and huffing with exertion as he bent at the waist and propped himself up on his knees.

"Look who finally decided to grace us with his appearance," a gruff and irate Rossi stated, sending Reid a very disapproving glance from beneath his dark and hooded brows.

Swallowing painful as he tried to regulate his breathing, Reid managed to say, "Sorry...my alarm...clock...the batteries...it did...didn't go off..."

After a moment in which Reid trembled uncomfortably under Rossi's intense scrutiny, the older man sighed and said, almost sympathetically, "Hotch told me to direct you to him when you got here. So, well..." He paused, looking around the room at the other occupants as he shook his head and added, "Good luck."

Frowning grimly as he spared a look out to Hotch's singular office, he winced in preparation for his scolding. He knew it was coming, knew it the second he answered his phone and listened to Morgan say that 'he had better be in trouble or incapacitated if he didn't want to get chewed out by Hotch.' So why did the feeling of terror and dread just now crash into him? Perhaps it was the lack of adrenaline that had done it, but the symptoms of caffeine withdrawal and the impending doom he felt as his stomach seemed to plummet to the floor were just now beginning to surface.

Sighing, his fate accepted, he began walking on shaky legs to Hotch's door, calling over his shoulder before knocking and entering, "Could someone please have a cup of coffee ready for me?"

He disappeared from view, the door concealing him from the words and eyes of his co-workers just as Morgan turned to Rossi and asked, "Do you think he'll be upset when he realizes we have no coffee to get ready for him?"

xXx

The door clicked into place as Hotch walked back around his desk, sitting down and fixing Reid with a cold and menacing glance, his eyebrows drawn downward and his lips pulled into a tight lipped frown. He barely remembered how to breathe, let alone speak, as he stood there, chewing the inside of his cheek as he awaited his scolding.

_'Was this what it felt like to get sent to principal's office?'_ he wondered, his mind somewhat distracted from the serious situation at hand as Hotch almost refused to speak, letting his deathly gaze talk for him.

Just when the silence seemed unbearable and Reid was positive he was going to faint from body tremors and pure anxiety, Hotch finally opened his mouth. "Care to explain yourself, Reid?"

His lower lip twitching in trepidation as he looked to the floor in shame, saying the words that now suddenly seemed so lame and immature. "My alarm clock stopped working sometime during the night." Was he mumbling? Clearing his throat, he looked around and said apologetically, "I'm sorry, Hotch. It won't happen again. I'll go out and buy an outlet one as soon as possible, I swear!"

"Make sure that you do, Reid, or else some more serious actions will have to be taken," Hotch said, his tone softening slightly. He always felt a fondness towards Reid that prevented him from truly getting angry at this little indiscretion- he knew it wasn't on purpose, nor that it would become a habit. Of all the people Hotch had ever known, Reid was the one who was always very punctual, and always obedient. That had to account for something. "Let this be a warning to you, and a little reminder that you should be thankful nothing of importance has come up to day."

Reid nodded, biting his lip as he wrung his fingers into the cuffs of his wrinkly sleeves, suddenly aware of how unkempt he must've looked. Was that why Hotch went easy on? Because it was apparent simply by his dress that Reid was not up to par today? Did he even have time to brush his hair?

Subconsciously, he rose a hand and brought it through his long, brown locks of hair, wincing when he snagged his fingers on several knots. No, he didn't. He grimaced at the thought. Wonderful, as if his day couldn't get any worse.

"Is that all?" he asked, trying to push the thought of his knotty and surely messy hair from his mind. That would get on his nerves for the rest of the day.

"Yes, Reid, you can go now," Hotch answered, eyeing him curiously. He really wasn't lying about being late, that was for sure. No man would ever let himself leave his home in such a state.

Nodding his head in a relieved thanks, Reid turned around and exited the room, grinning to himself like a Cheshire cat when he thought of the cup of coffee he would have. He could nearly feel the warm liquid on his tongue in anticipation, the need becoming all consuming now. In all truth, he probably should make it more of a habit to drink less coffee during the day, knowing full well the health issues surrounding caffeine addiction. But quite frankly, he didn't have the will-power to give up coffee. Dilaudid was one thing, but coffee was another thing entirely. And really, with how often his sleep was disturbed because of this job, who could really blame him from drinking the liquid like it was water to a parched mouth?

"Did anyone make coffee?" he asked, walking through the section of desks to get to his own, ready to drop his stuff off before heading to the kitchenette. But his steps came to a halting step when he heard the next sentence that left Morgan's mouth.

"We're out of coffee, Pretty Boy."

What? Surely he had heard him wrong. Coffee was always in supply there- it had to be! When they were called in at two o'clock in the morning, there was always the expectation that a pot would be brewing as soon as humanly- and in many cases, inhumanly- possible. Morgan was just messing with him, coffee was one thing that the BAU kept well-stocked if they could help it.

Sighing as he slipped his messenger bag to the floor, he began to stride, almost despairingly, to the kitchenette, his long legs taking the biggest steps they could allow for. "Haha, Morgan," he responded, frowning at the man's sense of humor. Coffee was no joking matter- didn't he understand that?

"I'm being serious, Kid. There is no more." There was something wrong about the way he said that. Something so...serious.

Swiveling around to face him, his head cocked to the side and his eyebrows disappearing behind the hair had fallen over his eyes, he said, "You're...you're kidding, right?"

Frowning, Morgan shook his head. " 'Fraid not."

No. This wasn't really happening, was it? This couldn't be happening. He needed his coffee! He needed it!

This was punishment. That was it. Hotch was angrier about Reid's tardiness than he had let on and, in childish spite, decided to hide the coffee on him. Yes, that was most certainly the case. The coffee was here somewhere, and eventually, after yanking Reid around for a minute or to, his team would give up and tell him the truth. That there _was_ coffee, and that he could more than happily help himself to it. Yes, that was obviously the situation he was in.

"Nice try, guys," he said. "But where is it? Seriously, I haven't had any yet today and it will really help."

Smirking slightly, Emily said, "Reid, were not kidding. There is no coffee. But when I go out to get lunch, I can grab you a cup."

Just as Reid was opening his mouth to thank her repeatedly, Hotch's deadpan voice broke through the room. "Not today, Emily. I just got a call about a serial murder case down in New Mexico. We're expected on the jet in ten. Coffee will have to wait," he said, almost shrugging sympathetically at Reid as he passed, hastily preparing for the sudden case.

"But-" Reid started, his eyes widening as he realized this wasn't a joke or a punishment. He really wasn't going to get coffee. At least, not for a couple hours. What had he done to deserve this?

"Hurry up, team. Especially you, Reid. You've been late enough today," Hotch added as he left the area, leaving Reid to pale and walk sheepishly to his desk. He grabbed his go bag, ignoring the increasing dizziness and nausea that seemed to pulsate throughout his body as the lack of coffee began to take its toll.

_'Well, this should be interesting,'_ he thought, leaving the bullpen with the rest of the team as he remembered the last time he had gone without coffee. Hopefully, this time it would be different. Otherwise, his team would be cursing the day that the coffee pot went empty...

xXx

To say Hotch was irritated was an understatement. A very grandiose one as well, as he was seriously contemplating the pros and cons of handcuffing Spencer Reid- the source of his agitation- for the duration of the trip. Normally, the young genius was either in his own world, reading a book at a Cheetah's pace, or sharing some random and obscure fact that would surely lead into a long winded rant. While the latter option of his two behaviors was the least tolerable, and could sometimes grate on the Unit Chief's nerves, this new behavior that seemed to stem from the lack of coffee was near ten-fold in it's annoyance.

Now, many of you may be asking yourselves at this point: What could be more irritating than having your ear rambled off by nonsensical facts and statistics that ultimately mean nothing? One might simply need to look at Reid's current state in order to find the answer.

Eating tray in front of him, he fidgeted in his seat, bony and long hands slapping the laminate surface of the table in a random rhythm. After nearly five minutes of consistent slapping, he would give his red palms a short-lived break and then begin drumming his fingertips over the surface with rejuvenated enthusiasm. The drumming would continue for three minutes until he would once more smack his palms in another random beat. Sitting cross legged, one leg propped over the knee of the other, he would only hold that position for five seconds before switching the limbs, alternating between laying his left leg over his right, and his right leg over the left. And as if these constant distractions weren't irking enough, the young agent was unable to sit still in his seat, his body rocking and, in consequence to this action, the sound of his shoulders hitting the back of the seat mingled with the sound of his chair creaking and groaning because of his non-stopped movement.

One look around the room, however, told Hotch he wasn't the only one thoroughly annoyed by the man. Every couple of seconds, Rossi would look up from his book at Reid, a scowl on his dark face, before sighing and trying to concentrate once more. Emily and JJ, who were working on some paperwork together and chatting casually in hushed whispers would send their own exasperated looks to the man, no longer amused by his overreaction to no coffee.

In fact, it seemed that the only one at peace was Morgan, who sat off to the side, listening to the music that streamed into his ears from the MP3 player.

_'Maybe,'_ Hotch thought as he looked once more at Reid, hoping the spastic doctor would catch his scathing look and get the hint, but to no avail. _'Maybe I should invest in an MP3 player for instances like this.'_

Sighing, Hotch placed his pen down and turned his attention back to Reid, realizing that his subtle clues would not pervade the notice of the caffeine-fixated man. "Reid, if you can't keep yourself in one position for longer than ten seconds, I swear to you I will get the handcuffs of every single agent on this jet and use them to tie various parts of you down," he warned, his voice low and threatening with a desperate edge to them. Of course, reading the same paragraph of monotonous legal jargon over and over again for thirty minutes was bound to make him snappy.

Reid looked at him, his eyes wide and watery and giving him the overall appearance of a lost puppy who had been abused and therefore trembled constantly. Despite the innocent and almost sad look in the hazel depths, Hotch refused to let his resolve break. He had another five and a half hours of this flight to deal with and he was sure he would go insane if Reid carried this behavior throughout the entirety of it.

"Sorry, Hotch. I just get like this without coffee," he said, embarrassed at having been yelled at.

Quirking a brow, Hotch said, "Just...stop being so noisy. I can't believe I'm saying this but I actually preferred it when you talked nonstop about something."

As if on cue, Reid's eyes widened with what Hotch knew was intrigue as he said, "Did you know that the average coffee tree has a life span of about fifty to seventy years? And when the tree is in bloom it's covered in thirty thousand white flowers which start to turn to fruit between twenty-four and thirty-six hours? Coffee is actually the second most widely used product in the world, the first being oil. It's also been declared the first most recognizable scent in the United States- did you know the distinct aroma of coffee is created after ten minutes of roasting? Also, there are many different origins of the nomenclature of coffee, though the earliest one is _Kaffa,_ named after the Ethiopian province in which it was discovered. The nickname of 'cup of Joe' actually comes from the belief that American servicemen, or G.I. Joe's, were big coffee drinkers. The most interesting thing though is-"

"Reid, shut up about coffee before I tie you up myself and add a gag in for good measure," Rossi cut him off, his eyes narrowed in irritation as Reid snapped his mouth shut, a layer of pink dusting over his pale cheeks. He mumbled out an apology and pushed the tray away, dragging his legs up onto the chair and wrapping his trembling arms around them, hugging his knees to his chest.

The young agent now quiet and still, silence was finally able to overcome the jet, and Hotch and Rossi were thankfully able to read further into their work- personal for Rossi, and job-related for Hotch. Every now and then Hotch would look up, sparing a glance at Reid to see if he was alright. They had been a little hard on him, he knew. It wasn't Reid's intention to be so obnoxious, just an unfortunate side effect, and he hoped that Reid understood that he wasn't really mad at him. But when he first looked up at him and from then on, it seemed the lack of coffee produced another result- lack of energy.

His head would slip to the side, resting on either the window of the plane or his shoulder, where it would stay for several seconds before snapping up into an alert position, as though frightened to sleep. The uniquely dark lids covering his hazel eyes would slip occasionally, the urge to doze off overpoweringly great. The grip Reid had on his legs was slowly loosening, the soles of his converse gradually slipping further and further off of the seat.

It was finally on the seventh glance that Reid seemed to have given in to sleep, his legs outstretched before him and his bottom shifted to the side of the chair so that he could rest more against the wall. Dark curls fell into his face, obscuring it from view as his chest rose slowly and calmly. Soft snores could be heard coming from his seat on the cabin, but really, it was a vast improvement from the all the ruckus he was making before.

It was two hours later when Hotch realized that all good things must come to an end, however.

The first time it happened, everyone jumped, unsure of what had just occurred, looking around at each other with questioning eyes. The second time it happened, they turned their looks to Reid, frowning in confusion. The third time it happened, there was no denying: Dr. Spencer Reid was sleep talking.

"No! Over there!" the sleeping agent yelled out, lethargically raising a hand and indicating a random corner of the plane. "Yeah, put it right there."

After a moment of quiet, Hotch leaned in and asked timidly, "Um...Reid?"

In response, the man mumbled something that sounded like, "No, the goat is really an alligator. I saw it" before turning himself in the seat so that his legs were now in the air, the knees resting over the arm of the seat.

"Is he...?" JJ asked uncertainly, interrupted by another outburst.

"The alligator's name is Fred, not George!"

"He's sleep talking," Rossi speculated, a small smile of amusement growing on his face. Even Morgan had removed his headphones in order to listen on the ridiculous words spewing out of his mouth, his grin wide.

"Hey, Reid," Morgan said slowly, his dark eyes alighting with mischievous intent. "Do you want some coffee?"

For a brief moment it seemed as though Reid hadn't heard the slightly teasing question. But then he rose up in his seat, his eyes still closed as he yelled out angrily, "There is no more! The elves used all of it!" Now even Hotch was smiling widely, the normally impassive agent wildly delighted by the prime entertainment sitting opposite him. JJ had clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle her laughs as Emily bit down on her thumb, her shoulders shaking.

Morgan, his grin only getting wider and more radiant, asked, "What did the elves use it for?"

"Magic!" he responded, his face screwing up in his slumber as some laughs escaped JJ, Rossi's sniggers joining in.

Unable to stop himself but promising to let sleeping geniuses lie after one more question, the dark skinned agent asked, "Magic? What's magic, Reid?"

He muttered something unintelligible as he shifted his head to rest it against the back of his seat, his hair sitting in an even greater mess of knots than it had to start with. Unsatisfied with the improper response, Morgan repeated the question, slightly louder than before.

"I told you! Unicorns!" he shouted angrily in response.

Unable to control their laughter anymore, JJ and Emily slumped forward, the ringing sounds of their deep-bellied laughs echoing of the walls. Morgan joined in with them, his head throwing backwards as he laughed deeply, increasing the noise level.

Startled and awoken by the sudden volume change, Reid jumped up, smacking his head against the seat and blinking in pain, confusion and exhaustion. He looked about him at the smiling and laughing faces of his colleagues, his face contorted in puzzlement as he rubbed his now sore head.

"Why is everyone laughing?" he asked, feeling a twinge of humiliation at the fact that they just might be laughing at him.

Morgan shook his head, his laughter dying down some. "Nothing, Pretty Boy. Go back to sleep."

Insulted by the callous treatment, Reid scowled, rubbing the last of sleep from his eyes as he stood and walked to the back of the cabin. "I'll be back," he said grimly, disappearing into the bathroom.

"He really doesn't do well without coffee, does he?" Emily voiced, her tone still merry from the recent bout of laughter. Nodding in agreement, the team returned to their various projects, wondering how the rest of the place ride would play out with Spencer alternating between so many reactions.

xXx

"What are you reading?" Reid asked Rossi, leaning over his shoulder to gaze at the text laid out before him.

"A book," he replied flatly, obviously trying to tell him without telling him that he wasn't in the mood to talk.

Reid though, whether it was his inability to understand social cues or simply from the fact that he was, without a doubt, overtired, leaned in closer and asked, "No, what's it about?" His eyes scanned the page, reading it quickly before looking back up at Rossi expectantly. His eyes were wide and harboring a near crazed look in them. It took only one look from the seasoned profilers to realize that Reid was undeniably hyper, if the gentle bouncing in his seat and quiet humming of a show tune were anything to go by.

When Rossi sighed and said, "It's just a fiction book, Reid. Now let me read it!"

At those words, the hyper agent busted out into a wide smirk and said, "Hey! My name! Reid! It sounds like 'Read'! Like, you know, the verb!" Chuckling, he began saying to himself, "Reid likes to read, Reid reads a lot. Reid reads about three books a day. Reid is reading- Hey, where are you going?"

In the middle of his loud and, admittedly, humorous ramble, Rossi had snapped his book closed with finality and then stood, heading over to a different part of the plane. Turning around to answer, he said, "I'm going to a place where you aren't."

Hazel eyes downcast as his lips slipped to a frown, Reid sighed dejectedly, staring down at the ground. He knew how ridiculous he was acting, and was even rather annoyed with himself if he were being honest, but he couldn't stop it. He was so exhausted and so unfamiliar with not having coffee rushing through his system that he was nearly itching with the impulse to move. And move. And move. And not stop moving. And to talk. And to talk. And to not stop talking.

Honestly, he wouldn't blame anyone if they slapped him right now. In fact, he almost wished they did, as his overtaxed mind was clearly impossible of blocking the impulses he suffered and would only become increasingly irritating until someone took a good smack at it him.

But no one did, of course. So it went that way for an hour, Reid rambling on faster and more frequently about little known facts than normal. He jumped from seat to seat, never staying still for longer than five minutes before deciding he would prefer the view from that window over there, or that he really should tell this person about that topic. Or simply that he had grown bored of where he sat. He spoke constantly, disrupting the thought process of all as he seemingly lost the ability to keep his own thought process to himself.

Thankfully, the burst of energy died down before Hotch had began returning to the idea of tying him up again, and he simply sat in the corner, exhausted and ragged looking yet entirely awake. He was quiet- too quiet. In fact, it was to the startling shock of his co-workers that when Morgan asked a question about Jack the Ripper- as the newest case had shades relating to the elusive murderer- Reid remained quiet. It took a full minute for Rossi to realize that the Genius-Who-Normally-Wouldn't-Shut-Up, had shut up and was not going to answer. So after giving Morgan the necessary information, he asked the man what was wrong.

"Hm?" he responded, turning his glassy and unfocused eyes to the senior SSA. After processing the question, he shook his head and said, "Oh, nothing. I'm just...not in the mood to talk. Like, I feel to tired to actually talk."

Cocking his head to the side and narrowing his eyes, Rossi asked, "Reid...does this normally happen to you when you don't get coffee."

He only nodded, his mouth closed once more and refusing to move, even to bestow facts upon his team.

The cabin was silent for a long while before Rossi said, "Maybe we should take better notice of the coffee inventory to prevent this from happening again..."

xXx

**Author's Note:**** I honestly have no idea where this came from, but rather enjoyed myself with the ****images of Reid suffering from Post-Caffeine Stress Disorder. It may be OOC, but it's meant to humorous. **

**ENJOY THE PREMIERE OF SEASON 7! I know I will!**


End file.
